The Ossuary: Soul and Bone

Chapter 3

The idea of food made her stomach churn. Ingrid couldn't bring herself to eat right now.

"I will save it for later," she reasoned, knowing good and well she wouldn't.

She rose from her bed and moved over to sit in front of her mother's vanity. She looked upon herself in the small dirty mirror. Her long copper hair that was once vibrant and shiny looked muted and dull. It clung flat to her porcelain skin. Her face looked just too thin and her bones jutted from her shoulders. Her blue eyes had lost their luster. She coughed again, struggling to catch her breath. A chill ran through her bones. She feared she didn't have much time left. Ingrid picked up one of the books that Pa had brought her to read and paged through it. He had given this on to her for her 19th birthday. She used to love sitting by the fire listening to him spin tales of far off lands. A tear drop hit the page of the book. And then another, until she had a cascade of tears streaming down her face. She tossed the book down.

"It's not fair she screamed!" shoving the rest of the books onto the floor.

She rose from her seat sobbing.

"It's not fair that I should never run through wood again, and never feel the Earth beneath my feet!"

Out her window she saw a figure move among the tree line. Wiping her face Ingrid hurried to her window looking out into the darkness.

"I am losing my mind," she thought aloud.

"Nonsense" a voice rang out from behind her.

She pivoted around quickly, coming face to face with the sea green eyes of the man from before. This time he was standing mere inches from her face. He studied her curiously, reaching up to wipe a single tear from her cheek. His hands were cold.

"Your mind is as sharp as your wit," he chided. His voice was a deep growl.

"Wh-who are you?" she asked under her breath.

Almost so silent that even she could barely hear her own voice. Her skin prickled with fear and excitement. She felt strangely drawn to the man, the air between them tense and palpable. The corner of his mouth rose into a half smile that was pure sin. Ingrid shuttered.

"I am here to escort you," he said.

"Escort me where?", she asked.

"Would you liketo find out?" he posed stretching a hand out.

Shock coursed through her body as the realization sunk in. This man wasn't a man at all. He was death incarnate, a reaper, and he had come to kill her. Suddenly Ingrid felt very aware of her surroundings. Her room felt too small, her clothes too tight. The air in her lungs felt heavy and thick.

"I have to get out of here!" she thought.

Before the man could say anything else Ingrid lunged past him and through the bedroom door. She sprinted down the hallway, past her Pa, and her younger sisters and out the back door toward the woods. She could hear faint cries of shock and panic call out from behind her as Pa tried to discern what was happening. Her heart broke for him, but she knew she couldn't stop. She wasn't ready for this, she wasn't ready to say goodbye, to never feel the earth beneath her feet again. She wasn't ready to die. Her feet hit the cool damp earth with speed as she entered the forest. The woods were dark, but she knew the path by heart. She ran furiously, branches whipping her face and pulling her hair, but she didn't stop. She pushed on until she physically couldn't continue; her illness riddled body betrayed her. Ingrid fell to her knees, a fit of coughs taking over her body until she lay curled up on the forest floor. Tears streamed through the dirt that had gathered on her face. Her body ached and trembled in the cold. Exhaustion took over as she closed her eyes for a final time. Taking in the smell of the earth and the pine around her, she drew her last breath.